


Liquescent

by Julibean19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, Fear Play, Full Shift Werewolves, Injury, M/M, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Watersports, Wet & Messy, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19/pseuds/Julibean19
Summary: Ever since he started running with werewolves, Stiles expected to die young.  He just didn’t think it would be at the claws and teeth of a massive wolf in full shift, especially not one he never saw coming.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 186
Collections: Secret Steter BFFs





	Liquescent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malapropian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/gifts).



Stiles has been running for what feels like days. His chest heaves with sharp pain. The acid buildup in his muscles burns like fire and he’s caked in mud from the waist down. His wrist is a dull ache from where he caught his fall a mile back, but he’s almost numb to it now. Stiles has far bigger problems, and the biggest one of all is not six feet from him, stalking forward, blue eyes blazing.

Ever since he started running with werewolves, Stiles expected to die young. He just didn’t think it would be at the claws and teeth of a massive wolf in full shift, especially not one he never saw coming. 

This one snuck up on him while he was taking the trash out. Yes, the trash the Sheriff asked him to take out before dinner that he forgot about until 2 a.m. That trash. Stiles should have heard the wolf coming, should have screamed right away, should have texted Scott before he dropped his phone down a ridge three miles back. He should have done a lot of things—like actually asked Danny to take his virginity before it got embarrassing, like kissed Lydia before he could talk himself out of it, like told his dad about werewolves before he finds Stiles’ mangled body in the preserve.

It’s too late for that now, though. Stiles’ meager life is flashing before his eyes as a 300-pound animal takes slow, heavy steps toward him. Its fur is black and ragged, standing up in all directions like the hell beast has been struck by lightning. Rasping breaths escape the wolf’s nostrils and Stiles can feel the damp air on his face. He sucks in a breath as it nears, willing himself not to cry, shivering as the hot breath hits his frozen body.

The head lowers, coming level with Stiles, mouth opening to rip out his throat, he’s sure. Stiles closes his eyes and exhales slowly, accepting his fate, but it never comes. Instead, a hot, heavy muzzle nudges his shoulder, snuffling behind his ear and grazing him with razor-sharp canines. The cut is shallow, but Stiles hisses as he feels a line of fire light up his neck. When a rough, wet tongue hits Stiles’ skin to taste the blood, he can’t help it—Stiles pisses himself. 

It’s an instant of relief followed by deep, gut-wrenching fear. 

The wolf backs off for half a second before moving so quickly Stiles jerks again, more urine escaping him. This time, the wolf’s head lowers further, pushing right between Stiles’ legs to sniff and snort. He yelps and tries to back up, but one step has him falling over a tree branch and landing hard on his ass. 

In no time at all, the wolf is upon him, snout nudging, hot and insistent against his crotch. Stiles, in imminent fear for his manhood, can’t help his adrenalin response. His dick twitches, hardening against the cold, wet denim of his jeans as the wolf toys with his nerves. Backing up, the wolf gives Stiles what he can only describe as a grin before raising one clawed paw and slicing into his jeans.

“No, fuck!” Stiles exclaims, trying to shuffle backward and away from the animal. His right hand grasps for purchase against the ground and Stiles gasps as pain lances up his arm from what he knows is a sprained wrist. 

Heedless of Stiles’ warning yell, the wolf slices through the fabric like it’s butter, leaving trails of white-hot pain on the tops of Stiles’ thighs as he nicks the skin with razor-sharp claws. 

“No means no, you motherfucker,” Stiles growls, kicking out with his mud-caked sneakers, attempting to catch the wolf in the chest. 

The wolf bats Stiles’ feet away easily, pinning him down with body weight. Its wet, cold nose snuffles into the crease of Stiles’ groin and this time it’s skin against skin. 

A shiver runs down Stiles’ body as the frigid wind blows through the woods hitting his exposed body. This cannot be happening. He refuses to give in to the crazy fucking whims of a deranged animal. Cursing, Stiles squirms, trying to shift the massive animal off his lower body, but it doesn’t budge. He struggles until he’s out of breath, but it’s no use. He’s trapped.

“Just fucking kill me and get it over with,” Stiles grumbles, laying his head down against the underbrush. There’s only one way this is going to end and he’d rather it happen sooner than later so he doesn’t have to live through the wolf tearing him limb from limb or eating him piece by piece. 

The wolf makes a strange, rasping noise, huffing out a breath like a laugh. Wincing, Stiles tries to tilt his pelvis away from the exposed teeth as a clawed, deformed paw brushes one long-curved nail down the length of his dick. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Stiles pants, attempting once more to squirm out from under the animal’s weight. “You’re not getting a boner right now, Stiles. You’re not doing it.” He exhales slowly, trying to force an appropriate reaction out of his traitorous body. It has the opposite effect. By the time that fur-covered snout touches his inner thigh, Stiles is hard as brass and quivering, his muscles too tired to fight it.

A minute passes with only hot breath and shivering limbs between them. Just when Stiles thinks he might be in the clear, a long, hot tongue runs from his knee to his balls. 

He yelps, jerking away from the touch, but there’s nowhere to go. The tongue pushes forward, hot and insistent until it’s lapping at him, lifting his balls up and then letting them drop with every stroke. It pushes in further until the flat of the muscle is pressing against his hole, unrelenting as it drives into him. 

A startled noise escapes Stiles’ lips as he cants his hips up, pushing his ass down. Before he can analyze his actions too deeply, the wolf is thrusting into him, deep and wet, deeper than Stiles has ever reached before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, clenching down hard around the intrusion. It’s over before it ever really began. Stiles’ body is like a live-wire, too keyed up to keep in control. With one touch of a thick black claw, Stiles is shaking apart, come spurting out of him hard and fast. 

He’s still twitching when three more claws join the first one, pressing into over-sensitive skin just hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to well up on his still-hard dick. Stiles’ eyes open wide in fear and are met with shining electric blue as the pain and pleasure make way for unadulterated terror. His orgasm bleeds into a different kind of release as his body lets go again. He tries to stop it, clenching down hard with his pelvic muscles, but that long tongue is still hard inside him, pressing in all the wrong places. Stiles has no chance. 

His face heats red as his bladder empties, a hot, wide stream soaking his thighs and the ground beneath him. It goes on and on, the sharp scent hitting Stiles’ nostrils, but he can’t make it stop. The angle of his still-hard dick has some of it hitting his chest and wetting the bottom of his ripped flannel until there’s nothing left.

Stiles’ eyes squeeze shut in humiliation as the wolf slowly removes its tongue and begins the work of lapping up Stiles’ piss. A low rumbling hits his ears as the animal contents itself with its task. When it gets back up to Stiles’ dick, warm heat presses into the slit and Stiles hisses.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles groans as his traitorous dick hardens once more. “You win. You can stop now.”

The wolf doesn’t stop. The long, talented tongue starts a whole new assault of Stiles’ body, It comes to a point, trailing along the ridge of Stiles’ dick in circles until it reaches the head, then it plunges deep, as far as it can go into the hole. Pressure builds in Stiles’ cock as the wolf delves even further, forcing something far too big into something far too small. 

Stiles’ hands clench at his sides, desperate to bat the wolf’s head away, but he can’t risk it. The tiny dots of blood have already dried on his shaft where the beast’s claws bit in, but Stiles can still feel the pain as the wolf tortures his abused cock from the inside. 

Biting his lower lip, Stiles tries to breathe through it. He takes slow inhales and exhales as the pain courses through him, tinged with the slightest hint of pleasure. He chases the sensation, his ass clenching around nothing as the wolf raises one paw, claws extended and holds it over Stiles’ stomach, poised to disembowel him.

Shutting his eyes tight, Stiles braces himself for the pain, but it never comes. Instead, a blunt weight pushes into him, right above the groin. He brushes it off knowing his bladder is empty, but sure enough, when the full weight of the wolf’s paw leans down hard, Stiles is proven wrong. The urge hits him again, this time meeting the resistance of the wolf’s tongue. Pressure builds as Stiles’ body tries to push the animal away from him, but he can’t fight it. 

Tears well in Stiles’ eyes as the pressure turns to pain. Surely his bladder burst—but that’s what it feels like. His dick throbs, slowly at first, but then quicker and harder until he’s sure he’s going to explode, but then the tongue pulls back and piss escapes him, burning sharp and hot. 

It should hurt, but Stiles is too relieved to feel the pain, instead, he feels only release. Waves of sensation wash over him as Stiles watches his dick spurt and sputter until he’s finally, blessedly empty. 

The ordeal should be over, but before Stiles can relax his muscles, the wolf raises his clawed paw once more, shiny and sharp. Stiles sucks in a breath and screams as the fingers lower, for they can have only one destination. He’s shocked instead to find that human bluntness plunges into him, the sharp edges fading from existence as they enter. 

Three wide fingertips immediately find his prostate and pummel it, rubbing hard and even pressure until the last dribbles of piss turn to a blinding orgasm. Come rushes out of his stretched hole, thin white ropes dissolving and separating as they hit sticky, matted fur and goose-pimpled flesh. Sapphire blue eyes meet his, shining inhumanly bright and then slowly fading. He collapses, his arched back finally unbending and falling to the forest floor. 

Stiles’ muscles unclench when he looks up to see the wolf’s snout dissolve into a handsome face. The man sports a wry, self-satisfied smile as the rest of his body transforms. Fur makes way for tan skin and dark nipples, back paws retreating into well-manicured feet as the extra mass folds in on itself. 

“Goddamnit, Peter,” Stiles hisses, his oversensitive skin chafing as the wolf’s leg hair brushes over his lower body. “Did you have to break my fucking wrist?”

“It’s not broken.” Peter is unimpressed, looking over his fingernails for dirt. “I might have sprained it.”

“Well, it fucking feels like it’s broken,” Stiles argues.

“It’s not my fault you’re clumsy. You went ass over feet down that embankment and I almost laughed, but I didn’t want to break character. You need to be afraid and you know it.”

“I was plenty fucking afraid, you asshole.”

“I could tell,” Peter grins, looking down at Stiles’ piss-soaked body. His pubic hair is matted down with sticky come and his pants are ripped to shreds. “It was cute.”

“You nearly clawed my dick off!”

“It was a little prick, that’s all. Don’t be such a drama queen. You’re still in one piece, aren’t you?”

“I may be, but jeans definitely aren’t.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” Peter says with a grin, likely planning a full new wardrobe to replace Stiles’ flannel.

“Not the point, Peter,” Stiles mutters, taking Peter’s outstretched hand and letting the wolf pull him to his feet. His knees buckle before he makes it and Peter has to catch him before his sore ass hits the dirt again.

“Want me to carry you home, Stiles?”

“Your home or my home?”

“Mine, obviously,” Peter says, drawing the word out. “Can’t very well have your father seeing you like this.” He gestures to Stiles’ lower body, thin lines of blood dried on his thighs, his cock and balls red and irritated from overuse.

“Right,” Stiles agrees, exhaling slowly. “Let’s go home.”

Before Stiles can settle into Peter’s arms, he’s shifting again. Bones crack and skin stretches until Peter is a wolf once more, looking at Stiles with all too intelligent blue eyes. He tosses his head behind him and lowers himself to the ground until Stiles, legs still like jelly, can clamber onto his back.

“If you buck me off a cliff, I swear to God I will haunt your ass for all eternity,” Stiles groans, taking Peter’s fur into his hands and pulling a little too roughly. He’d feel sorry about it, but his dick and ass hurt and it’s entirely Peter’s fault.

Peter turns his head and licks a stripe up Stiles’ cheek, huffing out an amused snort as Stiles takes his hands off his back to wipe at his face long enough for Peter to dash off into the woods.

“Fuck you,” Stiles says, grasping fur again before he’s bucked off. “See if I ever roleplay with you ever again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little slice of piss-soaked hell, Mal. Glad to have you as my Steter BFF!


End file.
